The Letter
by Montley
Summary: It was a magical day for Minerva, besides for the fact that it was her eleventh birthday. Quidditch League Competition Round 11


The Letter

By Montley

It was a magical day for Minerva, besides for the fact that it was her eleventh birthday. An owl had swooped onto the perch of her small windowsill in her tiny home in the Scottish Highlands. She had been reading again, letting her mind delve into the beautiful story as her nose took in the delightful scents of the pages, until she heard the small hoot. Frightened, she had immediately turned around, only to see a grey owl with a letter in its mouth and its claw tapping against the window pane.

Her heart had fluttered madly as she snatched the letter from the owl. Her mother had told her of this. She knew it would be coming, but she didn't know that it would come just as quickly as she turned eleven. She had also believed that maybe, the owls would skip her, that possibly, she was not worthy to bestowed with this honor that so many yearned for, yet few ever truly achieved. Yet, it was not applicable to her. She would be magical, and she would be different, unique and worthy, so different than the rest of the children she was forced to be raised around. Her heart soared as her feet quickly dashed out of the room as she sought her guidance, her mother Isobel.

The letter with the bright, emerald ink felt crisp and dainty in her tiny hands. Its touch sacred and smooth, like it wasn't meant to be grasped. Yet, it was seducing it with its illustrious scrawl, begging her to slip her finger under the fold and open it, so she could finally be free and be magical. But yet, her mother would be displeased if she would take that action without her notice. She knew that her mother would be happy to see the letter again. Minerva could always see the slight despair in her mother's eye whenever she or one of her brother's accidently created magic as though she wished to touch her wand again.

She crept around the corner of her home, peering into the small rooms. Her father was in his study, preparing his next sermon for that week's mass. Her little brothers were near the fireplace, bouncing and laughing over a new joke or perhaps their next little scheme. Minerva then knew where her mother would be.

With wide, anxious eyes, Minerva peered outside the nearest window of her home, and she caught sight of her mother sitting in between the two longest trees, breathing in the sweet scents of the autumn air. Her heart leapt, and she ran and threw open the rickety door, startling her once peaceful mother.

"Minerva!" she began to scold, her hand pressed against her chest.

"But mother!" Minerva yelled, running barefoot through the grass. "I got it!"

"What did you get, dear?" she asked, rubbing her fingers against her temples.

"My letter," Minerva said once she was standing in front of her mother, her feet brown and dirtied, and her mouth panting eagerly for new breath. "My Hogwarts letter."

"Oh," her mother said, her eyes shifting towards the ground. "I see."

"Aren't you pleased?" Minerva asked, worry finally beginning to seep in, replacing her once buoyant hope.

"Oh, of course dear," her mother muttered, waving her hand. "Let's have a look at the letter."

Immediately, Minerva thrust the unopened letter in front of her mother's face. For a moment, Isobel closed her eyes before tentatively taking the letter out of Minerva's hands. A lump caressed her throat as she slid her finger under the fold and carefully opened the letter, seeing her name instead of Minerva's on the letter, seeing a bright future, and not days stuck in a Muggle home with no chance of ever using magic.

Isobel pretended that she was eleven as Minerva stared glumly at her, she pretended that it was her own mother looming over her, and that she was not a mother, not yet. She would have been magical.

"Mum?" Minerva said quietly, her eyes averting towards the ground.

"Congratulations, Min," Isobel whispered, passing the letter back to her daughter, her lip quivering. "It's wonderful."

"Then why are you sad?" Minerva asked desperately, taking her mother's hands and shaking them in between hers. "It is because I'll be leaving come next September? You'll have dad and the boys."

Isobel looked to the sky as a tear slid down her cheek. She was not eleven. She was not magical. She was nothing. Then, she could not control her composure as her body was filled with wracking sobs of woe.

She loved and adored her family, but she could have been so much more to this world than a dim, housewife, limited to Muggle skills and not what she could have been if she had escaped.

"I'm sorry, Mum," Minerva apologized, her hands squeezing Isobel's as an attempt in comfort. "I shouldn't have asked."

"It's not your fault," Isobel said, wiping stray tears out of her face. "It's mine."

"Could, could you tell me?" Minerva asked, her eyes full of deep worry.

"Oh, I wouldn't want you to fret," Isobel told her, and gave another look at the letter.

Minerva would be leaving for the magical establishment, and could be led on the path just like Isobel's. Isobel looked at her daughter, whose eyes were full of bright innocence and wonder. She took her daughter's hands, feeling like the mother she was forced to become, instead of a healer. Now the only ones she could heal were her family.

"Be brave, Minerva," Isobel said, the tears still pressing against her cheeks. "Be brave and use your magic, use it to its fullest extent. It is a gift, and to ignore it like I have in these past years would be a waste. Wizards, Muggles, we're all human, aren't we? With different gifts and abilities."

Her mother paused and wiped excess tears out of her face as Minerva trembled slightly. They were supposed to be happy. "Every human life is worth the same you see, and worth saving, especially to show the world how special we are. So be brave in this world. Fight for yourself, and don't let anyone bring you down."

"I will, Mum," Minerva said, throwing herself on her mother and holding her in her arms as her mother began holding her back, wishing with envy that she could step into Minerva's shoes.

And little Minerva, even as she grew older, never forgot her mother's words. So she was brave, and never looked back.

* * *

**This was for the Quidditch Competition Round 10 where I had to write about a family relationship with Minerva. **

**Prompts: **

**9. "We're all human, aren't we? Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving." ― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows 12. Dialogue: "I shouldn't have asked." 13. Apologize**


End file.
